


Warm Enough

by thegizka



Series: Shikamaru Week 2019 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegizka/pseuds/thegizka
Summary: Shikamaru does not love the snow, but he does love Mirai, which means he'll willingly freeze his fingers and toes to see her smile.Written for Shikamaru Week 2019 Day 1:  Winter.





	Warm Enough

Shikamaru exhaled smoke, watching it swirl as the warmth of his breath fogged in the winter air. He had been doing a lot of thinking lately--more than usual, anyway--and too much thinking made him want to smoke more. He wondered if that’s what had driven Asuma to smoke so much.

Winter snowfalls came to Konoha like a maelstrom, tearing through the city and dumping piles of snow everywhere. They were few and short-lived as the usually mild weather quickly melted whatever fell. Those that hated the winter were glad it was over so fast, while those that loved it embraced it with the frenzied energy of an obsession. It was a messy time of year.

Shikamaru was not a fan of the snow. It was cold and inconvenient, and he was usually too lazy to hunt down his winter gear. By the time he tired of cold fingers and soaked socks, he only used his winter stuff for a few days before everything melted and it was once again too warm to bother with scarves and hats.

Mirai, however, loved the snow. She thought it was something magical. If she caught sight of snowflakes, she would beg her mom to go outside and try to catch them. If that wasn’t an option, she would settle for sitting by the window for hours watching them fall. She barely had the patience to get all bundled up before she was let loose on the winter wonderland, giggling as she stomped spider web paths through the drifts. Her joy almost made him like the snow, almost kept away his exasperation at having to find warmer socks so he could trek around after her. He loved to see her happy.

A snowstorm had dumped a foot of cold, fluffy snow on Konoha two days ago, and he had promised Mirai he would come play with her. Luckily activity in the Hokage’s office was relatively slow. Things were prospering, and the Five Great Nations were experiencing a period of unprecedented cooperation. He had been easily arranged a half day of work so he could spend the afternoon helping Kurenai and keeping good on his promise to her daughter.

He took a final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out on the ashtray he kept balanced on the porch railing. He tried to keep his bad habit out of Mirai’s sight in deference to Kurenai and Asuma’s intention to quit. Temari liked to make pointed comments whenever she caught him smoking, but she hadn’t put any real pressure on him to quit, so he hadn’t bothered putting in the effort to do so.

That was another reason to dislike the winter; Temari rarely dropped by for a visit.

He pulled his scarf over his nose as he set out to Kurenai’s, partially to fend off the cold but also to hide the grin he couldn’t suppress when he thought of the Suna blonde. It was common knowledge in both villages that they were an item, but they had been taking things slow. Dating was complicated, and the fact that he was the Hokage’s advisor and she was the Kazekage’s sister and ambassador added another layer of complications to consider. Neither of them were in the habit of rushing into things without first giving thorough consideration to all options, but the more moments they stole together during diplomatic visits, the harder it was to part ways and wait until next time. He had started asking himself how he could arrange things so that they could stay together all the time, but he hadn’t been able to come up with anything viable yet.

The snow meant he would have to wait longer to see her again. She wasn’t likely to accept any missions to Konoha now that winter had settled in. Temari was too proud to admit it, but she hadn’t quite figured out how to handle the snow. Though she was usually equipped to keep warm thanks to her experience with cold desert nights, the biting winter wind and sloppiness of the snow were new and frustrating. He had taken her out one night shortly after a snow dump last year. She had ended the evening shivering and grumpy and had refused to leave his residence the rest of her trip unless it was for official business. That had been perfectly fine with him, of course.

He was sure Temari would eventually learn to handle the snow, just as he had learned to handle the sands and winds of Suna. He suspected Mirai would be able to thaw her dislike with her joy and excitement, if only he could convince Temari to give Konoha winters a second chance.

Mirai was a force to be reckoned with, disarmingly cute and--he suspected--just smart enough to begin manipulating her many adopted aunts and uncles. He always had to stay on his toes around that toddler to make sure he didn’t spoil her, but also so that he wouldn’t miss anything. She seemed to grow and learn in leaps and bounds, and he did his best to take it all in, every tantrum and triumph, so he could tell Asuma all about it later.

There were moments when the injustice of their situation really struck him. Mirai deserved to have her father here rather than a brother who could only visit her once in a while. Kurenai deserved her partner to lean on and help her figure out all of the little emergencies that came with parenthood, not a kid who was still learning how to take care of himself. The next generation of Leaf ninja deserved the chance to learn from Asuma’s wisdom. But fate had decided against what was deserved, and they were doing the best they could with the circumstances.

He really had been thinking too much lately. That was the trade-off in times of peace. Without the pressing concerns of war or sticky diplomatic situations, his mind wandered to all manner of thoughts and reflections. He had left behind his true laziness sometime over the past several years. He had too much responsibility now and had experienced too much to totally disconnect. When he could, he still stole moments to lay back and envy the clouds, but his mind was always whirring, always chasing some idea or concern. He had never expected to have so much responsibility while having so much to figure out still. He wished he had his father or Asuma to help him muddle through things.

At least he could find a few moments of relief now and then. Shikamaru pushed his worries aside as he turned onto Kurenai’s block. Time with Mirai always demanded his full attention, which was a welcome change of pace from his normal contemplations.

“Shika-nii!” He was still two houses away when a small figure in a puffy coat hurtled out the front door, her mother just a step behind her. “You’re late!” Mirai shrieked.

“Mirai, is that how you greet someone?” Kurenai sighed. She looked rather worn out, which had him concerned.

“Hello!” Mirai began again before he could ask if she was alright. “You’re late!”

Shikamaru bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage her boldness too much. “I’m sorry Mirai. I was at work, but now that I’m done we can play as much as you want.”

“Yay!” She whooped with joy, grabbing for his hand. “Let’s go!”

“Can I talk to your mom first?”

Her face scrunched into a frown. “But you’re late,” she stressed, pouting just a little bit. If he wasn’t careful, this could devolve into a mini tantrum quickly.

“I promise it won’t take long. Why don’t you think about what you want to play, okay? That way we can start as soon as I’m done.”

The frown didn’t disappear, but she also didn’t whine any further. He had managed to earn a few moments to talk with Kurenai.

“She’s been raring to go since she woke up to the snow yesterday.” The kunoichi smiled affectionately at her daughter. “You’re going to have your hands full today.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he chuckled. “Did you have any trouble with shoveling or ice?”

She shook her head. “Konohamaru and his friends stopped by yesterday to clear us out and play with Mirai a little.”

“Sorry I couldn’t come by sooner.”

“Don’t be. You’re busy with important duties. We’re lucky we get you as often as we do, right Mirai?”

“Shika-nii,” she smiled, tugging on his hand again. “Let’s play!”

“I’m going to run to the store if you don’t mind. I’ve had a head cold the past few days and we’re running low on tissues.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Ino had a look and said it’s just one of those annoying winter colds that’s making the rounds in the village. It should clear up soon.”

“Come on Shika-nii,” Mirai insisted, tugging more forcefully on his hand.

“Alright. I’m coming. I’ll keep an eye on things here,” he promised Kurenai.

“Thank you. I promise there will be a cup of cocoa for you later in payment. Be good for Shikamaru, Mirai.”

“Okay!” She was already pulling her captive away into the snow. “Come on Shika-nii!”

“Have you decided what we’re going to play, Mirai?”

“Yes!” she said brightly, leading him to the middle of the yard. It was already strewn with criss-crossing paths and lopsided snow drifts from Konohamaru’s visit yesterday.

“What did you decide?” he prompted as she turned to him. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her grin was bright enough to blind someone.

“Snowmans!” she declared, following it with a happy giggle.

“You want to build snowmen?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you remember how to from last time?”

“Yes.”

“Can you help me remember? Where do we start?”

He let her take the lead, prompting her with questions or gently suggesting ways to proceed. He made sure she was wearing her thicker, waterproof gloves before rolling slightly lopsided mounds of snow and trying to stack them so they wouldn’t fall over. They raced to see who could collect sticks and pebbles the fastest, and they raided the box in Kurenai’s entryway closet for old scarves, hats, and gloves. He let Mirai direct him on how to adorn each snowman, respecting her creative decisions. He had read once that positive reinforcement went a long way with kids, though he couldn’t say he remembered caring much when he was little. He did remember his dad asking him lots of questions when he was younger and respecting his answers. It had probably been a ploy to get him to think for himself. He wasn’t sure how much of a difference it had made, but it was the best example of parenting he had. Mirai seemed to be doing fine under whatever influence he had on her, and that’s really what mattered.

“Which scarf do you want for this one?”

“Green. And then your gloves!”

“I need my gloves so my hands don’t get cold,” he reminded her as he wrapped the green scarf around their third snowman. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually bothered to find his waterproof gloves, so while Mirai’s fingers remained dry and toasty, his were wet and frozen. “Do we have similar gloves in the box?”

“No, your gloves,” she insisted, the pre-pout frown returning. She was probably getting tired and cold, and the discomfort exacerbated her delicate balance of emotions.

“Why does it have to be my gloves?”

“Yours,” she repeated. He really had to think of something before she lost it. He dug through the box of discarded winter gear, hoping to find something similar enough to appease her. He found a grey fingerless pair that tickled his memory with familiarity. They smelled vaguely like a dog. They had probably been Kiba’s.

“How about these? Look, they’re almost the same color.”

Mirair studied them, comparing them to his and running through her mental requirements. He couldn’t begin to fathom what her parameters might be, but he hoped his gamble was enough to appease her.

“Okay,” she finally decided, some of the storm leaving her face. The gamble had paid off.

“There, all done,” he declared, sticking the gloves on the sticks they had chosen for this figure’s arms. “Shall we take a break?”

“One more!” Mirai trumpeted, already gathering snow into a mound for the base.

“Aren’t you cold? I’m cold,” he admitted. His fingers were tingling.

“We need one more. Then it will be done.”

“Okay,” he sighed, “but only one. Promise?”

“Promise!”

Shikamaru did his best to ignore his frozen fingers and soaked knees as they set about rolling the last snowman. They were running out of snow, but Mirai insisted on making this one the biggest yet. He wondered if it was secretly an effort to delay their return inside. They must have traversed the entire area of the yard before she was satisfied with its height.

“Alright Mirai, which gloves are we using?”

“These!” she declared, holding up the biggest pair from the box.

“Okay.” He reached for one, but she clutched them against her chest and protested.

“I want to do it!”

“Alright, you can do it.” He could not for the life of him figure out what drove her choices. She was an enigma, a still-forming combination of reason and whimsy. At times he found her more confusing at times than Temari. He kept a close eye on her as she stretched to clothe the snowman, ready to catch her if she lost her balance, but she managed to finish all by herself.

“Are we all done?” he asked.

Mirai stepped back and scrunched up her face in imitation of someone thinking carefully, clasping her hands in front of her. They had made four snowmen of various sizes, each with its own winter gear, each with carefully constructed expressions. He wondered what she was scrutinizing, what particular decisions she was evaluating. She hummed contemplatively. He wished he could be privy to the wonder of her thoughts.

“Yes!” she shouted suddenly, her face breaking into that megawatt grin that somehow made everything brighter.

“They look good, kiddo.” He patted her hat. “Let’s clean up and go celebrate with some hot cocoa.”

“Yay!” she whooped, already scrambling to collect the winter gear they hadn’t used. He chuckled and piled the leftover sticks and pebbles next to the house.

“I beat you!” Mirai giggled. She had scrambled to the door, the pile of scarves and mittens balanced precariously in her arms.

“You didn’t tell me it was a race.” He gave her his best pained expression, but it had no effect on her high spirits.

“It’s always a race. Now open the door!”

“Mirai, what do you say when you want someone to help you?”

“Please!” she beamed, not at all put off that she hadn’t said it immediately and he had attempted to correct her. He didn’t bother to stress the lesson, too eager to get inside and regain some feeling in his fingers.

“I was wondering when you were going to come in,” Kurenai greeted, helping Mirai put away the gear and peel off her layers of coverings.

“We made snowmans!”

“Snowmen,” she gently corrected. “I can see them from the window. They look great.”

“It’s a family! One for me and one for Mommy and one for Shika-nii and one for Daddy!”

Shikamaru paused in trying to get his frozen fingers to work through his bootlaces. Kurenai gave him a curious look, silently asking where Mirai had gotten that idea. He could only shake his head and shrug, but he felt his chest tighten a little. Without any prompting, she had counted both him and Asuma as part of her family, and she had declared it with the simplicity of a child’s wholehearted belief. She had surprised them both.

“You did a great job, honey,” Kurenai responded, giving her daughter a hug. “Ooh, your cheeks are cold!”

“Are they as cold as my fingers?” Shikamaru asked, pressing his frozen digits against Mirai’s flushed toddler cheeks. She shrieked and pushed him away, giggling.

“We’d better get you some hot chocolate before you freeze,” Kurenai laughed, heading towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know if I’ll survive until then. Mirai, help me warm up!” He reached for her again and tickled her, earning another shriek and more giggles.

“No!” she cried, running away from him. He grinned and chased after her, already feeling warmer.


End file.
